It's All Grimm
by LoveInChains
Summary: After searching for a cure for lycanthropy for most of her life, Rachel moves to Beacon Hills in the hopes she'll have access to freshly turned wolves and further advance her research. Only her intentions aren't exactly as pure as they seem. Even if she herself doesn't know it. There are people pulling her strings... in more ways than one. Isaac/OC, slight Stiles/OC
1. Chapter One: Rapunzel

**Rapunzel**

"_And when the woman was brought to bed, the enchantress appeared at once, gave the child the name of Rapunzel, and took it away with her._"

* * *

All my life I've known that there is more to the world than what meets the eye. I've known it all, even while you're all worrying about bills, relationships, or a deadline, I've known that there things going bump in the night. Things that would rip out your, still beating, heart and savor every morsel as they devoured it in front of you. Sadly… that's my life. And because it's my life, I lived in fear of my family. Not because they were inherently violent or abusive, I just happened to be born into a very special sort of family, the sort of family that isn't always in total control of their emotions or of their tempers. A family that went bump in the night.

A family of werewolves.

Fortunately or unfortunately, even though I had a werewolf father, mother, and older sibling, I was born as a human. No special traits, no special powers, just a regular girl in a completely irregular world. And I was completely fine with that because I loved my family and they loved me. I had caring parents and a pesky older brother who, on several occasions, put worms in my spaghetti before dinner and shoved my face into the mud. Besides the underlying werewolf gene in our family we were completely normal.

But, sadly, things wouldn't last. Good things never seem to. You can train and train yourself as a werewolf to keep your emotions in check and be ready for all sorts of bad news or maladies coming your way, it's just isn't always enough. My father wasn't exempt from this rule, nor was the rest of my family.

When I was eleven, I was just barely starting middle school and my dad was having a really tough time at work and with life in general. He had just been laid-off a huge project at his firm, he and mom were going through a rough patch, my brother Dan had just totaled his car, and there was a threat of eviction for the family if we didn't come up with several months' rent. And dad, being the well-rounded Alpha wolf that he was, was able to keep all of this in check. That all changed when grandpa passed away after a long fight with Emphysema.

At the next full moon my father couldn't keep it all bottled up as he usually could. He was angry, he was destructive, he was unstable, and he nearly tore our house apart. That wouldn't have been such a big deal if not for one fact: Dan and mom were his Betas, meaning that his mental state greatly influenced theirs. You could see the pain in all of their eyes as they flipped furniture, smashed vases, threw books, and as they tore at each other like the animals they were.

Sensing that my life was in imminent danger I fled to the basement. A basement armed to the teeth with all sorts of gizmos and gadgets meant for keeping younger werewolves safe during the full moon. Thanks to their enhanced animal sense, it didn't take them long to find me. Because, not only were they viciously angry, they were also painstakingly bloodthirsty, as all werewolves are around that certain time in the lunar cycle. I don't remember the exact details of what happened next, all I know is is that one of them went to grab for me but stopped suddenly when the sound of gunshots rang out through our cement cellar.

Coming down the stairs with their guns cocked were werewolf hunters, the sort of people I'd never think I'd find myself happy to see. They kept their weapons trained on my father, he roared at them with his fangs barred and his claws ready and willing to fight. They needed no other incentive to riddle him with wolfsbane bullets. One after another they tore into him until he fell to the ground. Mom and Dan ran off as soon as the hunter's footsteps could be heard. Dad was too far gone to have taken notice to such a small detail and because of it was soon dead at my feet. The hunters advanced on me and I held my arms up in defense. They were about to deliver me to the same fate as my father when one called out,

"Stop!"

Surprised to hear such an order I looked up to see a young woman descend the basement stairs. In her arms was an assault rifle but, surprisingly, I didn't feel threatened. She felt like she was the only person I could trust in the slew of hunters surrounding me. With tears streaming my face, I ran at her. I wrapped my arms around her middle, I pressed my chest into her ribcage, and I wept like the small child I was.

Behind me a hunter spoke up. "Uh, chief?" He said. "Gerard said we have to kill all of them."

At the mention of 'kill' I choked on my tears. I didn't want to die. The woman I was holding onto handed off her weapon and patted me on the back. "If you _idiots_ can't tell, she's human. My dad might kill humans, but I don't." She pulled me away from her and crouched down to look into my eyes. "What's your name, sweetie?"

I rubbed at my running nose and my watery eyes to no avail; there was no stopping the tears. "R… Rachele…" I mumbled towards my feet.

"Ra-KEH-leh?" She repeated to make sure she had it right. I nodded in the affirmative. "Well, Rachele, that is a very pretty name for a very pretty girl."

Despite what had happened not a minute earlier, I was smiling and muttering. "Thank you…"

Her eyes crinkled at the corners. "My name's Kate. And if it's okay with you, we're going to take you away from here… we're going to keep you safe."

I looked behind me at the bloodied corpse of my father, his eyes were still red, but vacant as they stared at the ceiling. "Wha-whu… what about daddy?"

With a look of pure sincerity in her eyes, Kate rubbed her hand up and down my arm. "Your daddy can't come with you. He's a very dangerous man and it's my job to protect you."

"It is…?" I questioned and wiped the underside of my nose with my sweater sleeve.

Kate smiled. "It is now. Why don't you grab my hand and I'll take you out for ice cream? That sounds good, right?"

I nodded briskly and did as I was instructed. Being so young I naturally dissociated from the situation I was in. I chewed on my sleeve as Kate led me out of the cellar, signaling to her men to go after both my mom and my brother. I didn't notice it then, I was too busy squeezing Kate's hand and crying. She smiled down at me until we were outside. She would've continued to do so if it weren't for the fact she was keeping an eye out for the rest of my family. But I didn't care. I was just happy that Kate had saved me.

For the next eight years, Kate was my mom. She was zany and quirky and a little bit nuts, some would say she wasn't fit to be a mom, but I didn't care. She officially adopted me soon after the incident, nicknamed me Rachel, and took me with her in her travels all over the country. And, except for one time when I was thirteen, she took me everywhere. We went from state to state, ridding the world of the werewolves that had "gone off the deep end". And, when we both felt I was old enough, she trained me to be like her, a hunter.

And I excelled.

The only other member of her family that knew about me was her father, Gerard. He was a stern, authoritative man and didn't much appreciate my werewolf heritage. Nor did he have much of a problem voicing his distaste. Still, we got along well enough. He admired my promise as a hunter and often compared me to Kate when she was younger. Being the young impressionable girl that I was, I loved to hear that sort of thing.

I loved the time spent with both Kate and her father, but my pursuits lie elsewhere. My ultimate goal has been and will always be to find a cure for lycanthropy. To give people who were forcefully bitten a way out of the curse. I just needed a clue as to where people were being bit. There's no public database where you can find out those kinds of things.

Eventually, though, I'd hear of a town riddled with werewolves. It's just sad that I couldn't have gotten there before Kate was murdered, perhaps I could've saved her. Killed in Beacon Hills, formerly home to one of the largest werewolf families in California and currently housing one of the most successful werewolf hunting families in history.

I drove into town the night she died. Flashing police lights lit up the darkened sky. I dialed Kate's number only to have an officer pick up on the other end.

"Hello?" He asked.

It took me a second to formulate what I wished to say. "Uh, is Kate there?"

The officer let out an uneasy breath and I knew what he was trying to say. "Miss Kate Argent was just found dead, ma'am. I'm sorry to have to tell you this over the phone. Do you mind me askin' what's your relationship to the deceased?"

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Family friend."

I didn't want to hear or say any more. Already tears threatened to form in my long since dry eyes. I ended the call and exited my car. I then dropped the phone and was about to crush it into the asphalt when a familiar ringtone echoed through the night. The Othello theme, meaning it was either my Film Appreciation professor or Gerard Argent.

Assuming it was the latter I quickly picked up the three year old flip phone and put it to my ear. "Evening, sir."

"Rachel, I assume you've heard the news." He returned in his usual cold bravado.

On my end, I nodded though no one could see. "Just now I did. If you're calling me I take it that her death wasn't an accident."

He chuckled darkly. "Sadly, in our family, it never is."

"I'm sorry for your loss, sir." I lamented.

"Thank you, to you as well." He offered in a slightly kinder tone. "But, unfortunately, this isn't a condolence call. If you're not in Beacon Hills already, get there and prepare for a long stay. You and I have work to do."

Without another word the line went dead, not an uncommon occurrence with Gerard. I snapped my phone shut and threw it back into my car. I stayed out in the cool November air for a few minutes, watching my breath as I inhaled and exhaled in some attempts to calm myself down. I had long since shed a tear for the passing of a friend, but Kate was my mother. And she was murdered by people of my own fold. I grabbed my mouth and squeezed my eyes shut.

Tears fell from my eyes, betraying my previous efforts to keep them bottled inside. I let myself cry for a few moments for the person who raised me into womanhood. Once that was finished I slid back into my old Cadillac with undeterred determination. I calmly turned the keys in the ignition, threw the car in drive, and sped off down the stretch of abandoned road, turning on my iPod jack and allowing The Winner Is… by DeVotchKa to cover up the symphony of police sirens as I disappeared into the distance.


	2. Chapter Two: Our Lady's Child

**Our Lady's Child**

"'_Dear child, I am about to make a long journey, so take into thy keeping the keys of the thirteen doors of heaven. Twelve of these thou mayest open, and behold the glory which is within them, but the thirteenth, to which this little key belongs, is forbidden thee. Beware of opening it, or thou wilt bring misery on thyself._'"

* * *

When a loved one dies, you find that the simplest things become egregious. Pulling yourself out of bed in the morning, pushing around strips of bacon in a frying pan, driving well over the speed limit down country roads, shooting old beer cans out behind the neighbours barn, I couldn't do any of that without feeling a great deal of heartbreak. Kate taught me everything that I know.

I could still hear her voice when I got up every day.

"Five more minutes…" She'd mutter from her spot beside me.

I could hear her as I prepared breakfast.

"Why can't I find a husband like you?" She'd whine from the kitchen table.

I could hear her as I cruised down any road.

"Cut down across that field! I've got a year old unpaid parking ticket so you can't let the pigs catch us!" She'd instruct from the passenger's seat with a cheeky grin colouring her face.

I could hear her as I cleaned my gun.

"_Quick!_ Vinny's let out Ripper! We've got about five seconds before he turns our asses to puppy chow!" She'd laugh just before she grabbed my hand and took off running for the woods.

Just the thought of those sorts of things, how you'll only ever have the memories, your chest tightens at every breath, at every beat of your aching heart. It's so tight it's almost crippling. Your head aches constantly no matter how often you sleep or the strength of the drugs you send down your throat. And it's as if there's a hole where your stomach should be, threatening to suck you in and rip you apart piece by piece, as if the grief wasn't doing that to you already.

Still, one must press on. It's not advised, nor is it easy, but it is possible to suppress the intense anguish. I often find that the case with myself because of my "job", too often to be healthy. Even if I was so overwhelmed by Kate's passing I was barely allowed five minutes of grievance before things needed to be set in motion. You only have a small window of opportunity to obtain the perfect identity where you have access to my subjects of research without raising suspicion.

Over the course of the weekend I managed to forge documents, establish a cover, get a read on all autopsy reports, visit the only living victim in the hospital, and I even put down an offer on a house thanks to Kate's insurance policy. A policy I wouldn't have even taken out if it weren't for some helpful advice from an insurance agent we saved a couple years back from his ex-wife, who just also happened to be a raging werewolf. It seemed like everyone had a temperamental werewolf wreaking havoc on their lives no matter where they lived.

So by the time Sunday night rolled around everything was set. The owners of the house I wanted to buy were more than happy with my offer and were itching to get out of Beacon Hills. I don't blame them, honestly. With all of the people being brutally murdered, who wouldn't want to leave such a hellish place? I would if it wasn't my job to contain those sorts of situations.

That left me utterly alone in a large two story newly built home for at least five people with my laptop in my lap as I sat on the stark white settee I had moved from Kate and my place in New York. I was going over the police reports again, and again, and again. Switching from picture to picture in the blink of an eye. Nothing wrong with making sure I had all of the facts before I went barreling headfirst into the unknown. This is usually how I ended up doing things, despite all of the planning and preparation, it all crash and burned after all of the effort. And as I scanned over every bloodied corpse and claw mark, everything seemed to be in order.

I was about to call it an early night when my phone rang; that same theme song that always reminded me of Lawrence Fishburne, meaning that Gerard was finally checking in after two days of absolutely no sign of him. I picked up my phone from next to me, flipped it open, and placed it in between my cheek and shoulder. "Evening, sir." I greeted formally, for he wouldn't settle for anything less.

"Rachel." He returned. "I trust that you're all settled in."

I made a noise in the affirmative. "My alias is established, I'm enrolled at Beacon Hills High for this and next semester, I've looked over everything a dozen or so times, I checked Lydia Martin's status in the hospital, and I'm now the proud owner of a beautiful house."

Gerard chuckled. "You're nothing if not prepared."

"Thank you, sir." I offered graciously. "Both you and Kate taught me well."

Another chuckle echoed through the receiver. "That we did. I'm only calling to remind you that no matter how much you want to, you can't attend the funeral tomorrow."

"I know." I said with a sigh. "There can't be anything connecting me to the Argent's."

"Good." He said bluntly. "Before I forget, what name have you chosen this time around?"

"Rachel Langham." I answered, the emotion in my voice becoming harder and harder to hear as the conversation continued. Sadly that's how I was around Gerard, afraid to be anything similar to the girl that Kate had raised. Perhaps it was better that way. I didn't want to be comfortable around the man, not then, not ever.

Gerard 'hmmm'ed and 'hummm'ed. "That'll be all. Good night, Rachel."

"Good night, sir." I repeated back to him just as the line went dead.

With him out of my hair I could finally breathe. I exhaled loudly and threw my head over the back of the couch. I brought my hand up to push aside my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose. The man set me on edge. My heart rate increased whenever I heard his voice or whenever he was near. I've been told that that's just how he is. No matter how sweet his smile or how honeyed his words, he never ceased to intimidate even the strongest man. And the only thing that brought me back to neutral after a conversation with him was to write to someone I hadn't seen in eight or so years.

I pulled my head back so I could see my computer screen and I clicked open my e-mail. I scrolled through my contacts until I came to the one labeled 'MOM'. With a shaky hand I selected the command 'Compose Mail' and began my letter.

'_Salve, Mamma._

'_It's been a few weeks since I last wrote to you. Sorry, I was busy with a couple of Omega's near Albany for the past month or so. It would've been awhile before I wrote you again but… Kate died a few days ago. She was killed by Peter Hale. A Hale, can you believe it? According to Kate they were all dead. And he was an Alpha, no less. That isn't even the crazy thing. Peter was killed by his nephew Derek for killing Derek's sister Laura. Another pair of Hale's! Apparently they weren't as dead as Kate thought. Well… now they are. Derek's the only one left._

'_I'm not writing this to share my astonishment. I just… I miss you, Ma. I miss Dad. And I miss Dan. I hope you two are okay. God, I wish I could find you guys. I wish I could see you. But I'm a hunter now and Gerard's looking over my shoulder, waiting for me to show the slightest hint that I know where you are. You know how the Argent's are. If you're a werewolf, you're dead. No questions asked. I couldn't risk that with you or Dan. As much as he annoys me, I still have to repay him for cutting off all of my hair in my sleep._

'_Anyways… I should probably go. I've got a lot of work to do tomorrow. There's a batch of teenage werewolves around here, I just know it. Not only are they easier to turn, they're sturdier and can withstand my testing better. Now I just have to convince them that I mean no harm, which isn't going to be easy to do with Gerard in town. I'll write you again in a few days._

'_Con Amore,_

_ Rachele'_

I read over the letter three or so times, smiling after each read. Then I read it one last time before I held down the backspace button and watched as the words disappeared. I only wrote those letters for my benefit. Just pretending that I was confessing my troubles to my mother was enough for me to feel her presence. I could almost feel her small arms wrapping around me and promising that everything was alright. I still wrote the letters even when I lived with Kate. Kate was like a mother but was more like a big sister. I couldn't share everything with her, not to mention that I can't share anything with her now.

When the page in front of me was completely blank I let out a sigh of relief. All of my post-Gerard woes had washed away only for the grief of losing Kate to return. I honestly couldn't win. Gerard's reminder for me not to attend the funeral came to mind. Making me realise something else: if I couldn't be there for her at her burial, I'd be there for her in spirit. With a carefree smile on my face I pulled on my suede jacket, grabbed my keys from next to me, and headed for the door.

I drove through Beacon Hills until I came to my intended destination: the cemetery. Even though Kate wasn't in the ground her tombstone would be still be there. And I could still pay my respects. So I parked the car on the road that led through the boneyard and I searched for her grave. I came across it after a while. There were no dates, no relations listed, no meaningful quote to follow her into death, just Kate Argent in big letters engraved into a marble slab.

"They really went the extra mile for you, didn't they?" I remarked sarcastically. "Couldn't even put your expiration date on there. That shows you how accommodating people are. I honestly would've paid for a better stone had I known the one your family got you would be so shitty."

Despite my forced humour, I felt the wetness at the corner of my eyes. I pulled out a cigarette from my jacket pocket, lit it with my Zippo, and placed it between my chapped lips. I'd been trying to deal with the stress without resorting to inhaling the toxic chemicals but I just couldn't do it. It hurt too much. So as I inhaled and exhaled over and over and over again I expected the pain in my heart to diminish. But that would never be the case. It's not that easy, no matter how much I wanted it to be.

"Miss…?" Someone called from behind me. I turned around quickly, forcing my cigarette to fall towards the ground, to see a young man in a large excavator, which had not been there a minute ago, watching me sheepishly.

"Gesù Cristo!" I called, my hand going to my chest in shock. "How the hell'd you get that thing there without me noticing?!"

The young man, who looked more like a boy with every passing second, became wide-eyed and appeared frightened by my outburst. "Uh… I-I don't know. Most people don't notice me working when they're here. Something about grief clouds the senses, I guess... Did you… did you know her?" He asked quietly whilst pointing at Kate's rock.

'_Merda._' I cursed myself. For someone who wasn't supposed to know her I was getting off to a pretty poor start. Good thing I was good in a pinch. I reached up and scratched the back of my head. "Uh, no, I didn't know her. Not personally, anyways. I just heard how she killed all those people and I was… I was a bit curious." I lied, hopefully, smoothly.

He nodded, forcing the light to shine on his face and allowing me to see some slight bruising around his eye. "You'd be surprised how many people want to go to the funeral just to see the infamous Kate Argent, even if she's being put in the ground."

My eyes widened. '_People in this town are really that insensitive?_' "But they're not going to, right?"

"Chris Argent helps out with the cops sometimes so the police are setting up a checkpoint to keep uninvited guests and reporters out of the service." He explained kindly. "But, um… I really need to dig this grave here…" He said, suggesting I should get a move on.

I gave him an O-K with my hand. "Got it. I'll get out of your hair." I smiled. "And some friendly advice from a stranger to another, get a bag of frozen peas or something on that eye."

Something I said caught him off guard, his back went rigid and his hand went right to the bruised skin I was talking about. "Wh-what…?" He stuttered.

I pointed to his face. "That black eye you've got?"

"Oh… yeah…!" He hesitated, a sort of fear resonating from him. "It's just… uh… our freezers… you know… empty…"

I shrugged, trying not to show too much concern for the well-being of a kid I just met. "Still, you should get _something_ on that." I persisted. "I mean… if I had a face as cute as yours I wouldn't want it to get all red and puffy."

Okay. I have no idea where that "cute" comment came from. It's not that he wasn't, I just wasn't the type to blatantly hit-on someone like that. Not to mention someone probably at least three or four years younger than me. I almost shivered.

'_Geez_. _Robbing the cradle, much?_' I thought sarcastically to myself. So when the kid didn't respond I decided that's where I should take my leave. "I guess it's about time I got out of your way, it was nice meeting you!" I said with a smile and wave before jogging back towards my car. I jumped into the front seat, started her up, and peeled off towards my house. As a passing thought I looked back at the kid. He _was_ really cute. I smirked to myself and continued down the road, listening to Mrs Robinson and humming the entire way.


	3. Chapter Three: Cat and Mouse

**Cat and Mouse in Partnership**

"_A certain cat had made the acquaintance of a mouse, and had said so much to her about the great love and friendship she felt for her, that at length the mouse agreed that they should keep together_."

* * *

The next day I woke up at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, something I had not done for quite some time, I hadn't the need for it, all in the name of being prepared for my first day of school. I pulled out a protein bar from the confines of my duffel bag and ate it restlessly as I gathered my things. How people function that early in the day is beyond me. Sluggishly I piled everything into what would serve as my "backpack". A couple of notebooks, some folders, a rabbit's foot (for luck), and my brand new phone, nothing special or out of the ordinary. But then I had to pack in some daggers to ruin that guise.

For whatever reason I was foolishly shaken by the concept of returning to school. I hadn't a need for it in the past. I taught myself through homeschooling and I didn't actually attend University at the time, I was solely an online student. You could say I didn't merge well with the populace and you'd be right. That wouldn't have been a problem if I'd been raised as a normal child. But it wasn't the time or the place to debate my upbringing; I had to finish getting ready.

So I took a nice long shower, almost revelling in the fact that for once I'd be able to bathe properly. Kate always hogged the hot water no matter how sweltering it was outside. I smiled to myself as I recalled the times I'd have to literally pull her out of the shower so I could at least have a five minute one of my own.

_Sigh_.

I stepped out of the steamy bathroom around 6:30 with my hair and body all wrapped up in towels. Thanks to my early rise I had plenty of time to figure out what to wear on my first day. After a short deliberation of my extensive wardrobe (sue me, I like to shop) I settled for a pair of distressed blue jeans, a white camisole, and a black cardigan. Simple's always better in my book and it's well advised to stay under the radar in every way possible when undercover, as I often am. With everything in order I reached for my shoulder bag and headed for the door. I gave the place one last scanning look before locking the deadbolt and getting into my car.

Fifteen minutes later I was pulling into the parking lot of the school, which was mostly empty, to my surprise. I looked at my newly acquired iPhone. According to the much-smarter-than-me smartphone; it was only 6:50. I _was_ supposed to arrive early to finish discussions with the principal because I wasn't technically enrolled for that semester, despite what I told Gerard. I couldn't exactly show up not even half way through the year and expect them to accept me with open and unquestioning arms.

Even though I was obnoxiously early I didn't leave to get a coffee or anything, which would have been a wise decision considering my lethargic state, I settled for groaning loudly and kicking my door open. I swung my legs out and reached for my bag, already regretting the whole "let's go to school!" decision. With my elbows on my knees I angrily ruffled my damp hair, leaving me with a curtain of red seaweed in my face. Through the ginger muck I looked around me. There was somebody not too far off rummaging through the garbage. I pushed my hair out of my face to get a better look at them.

They weren't a student that much was for sure, too old and too homeless. But oddly enough he looked a bit like Sasquatch. Absentmindedly I reached behind my seat and fumbled around for my flats. I slipped them onto my feet and exited the Cadi with my bag in hand. I locked her up and started towards the school, my attention never wavering from the guy by the trash. My instincts were telling me that he was suffering from a particularly lupine condition but I'd address that later. He wasn't who I was looking for.

Meanwhile I dragged my sorry butt up the school steps and through the front door. There were some students milling about, studying for midterms and what not, I barely paid attention to them as I followed the on-the-wall directions to the main office. Once there I looked around for a secretary, the swivel chair they should've been occupying was empty. I whipped my head around to see if they were in the vicinity. Not seeing them immediately I rasped my knuckles lightly against the metal desk and waited, hoping they were close enough to hear my knocking.

"Give me a minute!" Someone called from a closet off to the right. "_Crap!_ You made me lose my- _shit!_"

I watched and winced as several boxes tumbled out of the small room, sending a myriad of papers about the place. My brain had barely processed what was in front of me before I dropped my bag and rushed to help, sliding to my knees and ripping my jeans in the process.

'_Merda_.' I swore to myself. I was running out of good sturdy jeans from every day wear as it was.

And I _really _didn't need a reason to go shopping.

As I gathered papers and boxes I looked to who had dropped them. In front of me a messy blonde-haired girl was frantically gathering folders, binders, papers, what have you, like her life depended on it. There were dark circles under her eyes and red marks where she'd more than likely bit her lips several times. Her general appearance screamed sadness which, in turn, made me feel pretty down in the dumps. I quickly removed my gaze from her when I felt her suddenly become aware to it. Her brown eyes looked up at me and then to my jeans, her brow furrowing at the apparent sight of my recently mangled attire.

"Oh, your pants!" She exclaimed. "Did-did that just happen?"

Not wanting to further that sad look of hers, I said while motioning to my jeans, "What, these old things?" I laughed. "Nah, this happened months ago."

A look of relief crossed her face, simultaneously putting me at ease. She smiled up at me, her lips almost twitching. "That's good… well, it's not good, but at least it's not-" She stammered nervously before I held up my hand to stop her.

"I know what you mean." I offered with a crooked grin. "And, uh, I think that these belong to you." I finished, her papers in hand. As she took them from me I noticed a pretty cute bracelet dangling from her wrist. It looked handmade, made from the caps off of beer bottles.

That time she managed to catch me staring. "Wha-what?" She asked, wondering why my eyes were lingering on her.

For half a second I said nothing. Then I shook my head and smoothed my hair back into place. "Uh, sorry, it's nothing I just… I really like that bracelet." I admitted while pointing to it. "I've never seen bottle caps like those."

She glanced at her wrist and dangled the bottle caps about. "Yeah my dad likes a bunch of strange beer from all over the world. He knows I like to make jewellery so he gives me the caps when he's done." She mumbled sort of absentmindedly.

My face probably lit up like a Christmas tree. "You make your own jewellery?" She nodded and I continued to smile. "Honey, whoever you are, you're my new best friend."

Then, for a minute or so, we laughed. And for a brief moment my worries of school life and werewolf hunting went out the figurative window. It felt nice to unwind momentarily. Even if we were still surrounded by a complete mess, for the first time in days I felt calm and completely at ease. Gerard wasn't breathing down my neck, there was no out-right grief looming over my shoulder, nothing but teenager recklessness and a childhood I surely missed.

After a while though, we had to get back to reality. Our laughter diminished until there was nothing but silence. We awkwardly got out of the others way as we both moved to stand while handing off papers and apologies for the whole situation.

"You're probably here for something, right?" She asked tentatively.

I snickered. "You mean besides causing poor unsuspecting girls to lose their balance?"

That got me a giggle out of her. "Yeah, besides that."

"I _was_ looking for the principal's office…" I muttered as I looked around me for any inclination as to where that office might be.

She looked over her shoulder and motioned in the direction down the hall behind her. "His office is all the way down at the end there." She informed me. "Just make sure you knock first, he's got this weird thing about it."

"Thanks for the info." I smiled and headed towards the principal's office. I was about halfway down when I turned back and said, "I'm Rachel, by the way."

She pulled herself around to face me and gave me a grin. "Erica."

We gave each other one last wave before she disappeared back into the closet. I knocked lightly on the metal door in front of me and heard someone call "enter" from the other side. I turned the doorknob gently and walked slowly into the large office. The principal, Mr Roberts, was seated behind his desk with a phone to his ear. He was talking to someone and I didn't know what to do. Upon seeing my hesitance he beckoned me forward impatiently with a crook of his fingers.

I sat myself down in one of the chairs placed parallel to his desk. He continued his conversation over the phone for a moment longer and then hung up the receiver. With a sigh he adjusted his glasses and sifted through the papers in front of him. "Rachel Langham, correct?" He asked without even looking at me.

"Yes, sir, that's me." I offered in return to his question.

He took a second longer to find whatever he was looking for before continuing the conversation. "So you want to enrol for the next semester." I nodded. "I see no problem there but your other request… remaining here at Beacon Hills as a visitor until such a time when you can attend formally, it's an odd request to have."

Again, I nodded. "I understand that, sir. It's just… I'm very serious about my studies and I don't want to fall behind in any way. If I could audit a few classes, if the teacher's preapprove it of course, I would be most grateful."

He pushed his glasses out of the way slightly to massage the bridge of his nose. "What classes did you have in mind?" He asked laboriously.

"Mainly Chemistry and Biology, though if you happened to teach Biochemistry here that would be wonderful." As I said that I was doing cartwheels in my head. Despite his grouchy old man demeanour the principal was fairly easy to convince… a useful thing to remember in the future.

He nodded and grabbed one of the many folders behind him. From a mossy green folder he pulled out a form and began filling it out, scribbling his signature and checking off boxes. "Alright…" He breathed affirmatively though unsurely as well. "Take this to Ms Yves and Mr Harris. Get both of their signatures and you'll be all set."

I smiled as widely as I could without straining myself, taking the paper from Mr Roberts. "Thank you so much, sir!"

And just as I was about to turn and head for the indicated classes, he stopped me. "Ms Langham I have also taken the liberty to give you one of the last lockers available in the school. Those textbooks can get pretty heavy, as I've been told."

I gave the man a look of pure gratitude. "I don't know what to say!"

"Erica will get you the combination." He muttered while looking through his neverending stack of papers once more. "She should be out front in reception."

I nodded several times and backed out of his office. As I closed the door I thanked the Lord that things were going off without any hiccups or bumps. Though faking my way into public school should've been more difficult for the sake of the students. I didn't dwell on it. I just hoped that my good fortune would continue. And that a pack of werewolves was just around the corner.


End file.
